Recently I read a quote by Mel Robbins where she stated, “You don’t need closure. You need to move on” and this made me think about tomatoes.
I hate tomatoes. They literally make me gag.
Several years ago when I met my daughter’s great grandfather and he heard of my aversion to tomatoes he decided that I just needed to eat the right tomato.
I was hesitant as to his rationale, after all I’ve lived to a grand ol’ age without my taste buds altering to this particular flavor profile, but I figured I’d give his theory a chance.
We walked to the farmers market together with my daughter in tow and he bought several varieties of fresh grown local tomatoes. He gushed over each while I raised a brow in speculative doubt.
Honestly, they all looked like mushy disgustingness to me. Past that firm, shiny, red exterior was slimy, warm, seedy, mush.
An unexpected quiver of revulsion ran down my spine as he took a large bite of one as if it were an apple to have the juice run down his chin and fingers. He smiled in delight as he handed it to me.
Not wanting to let this wonderful man down, I grabbed the tomato, closed my eyes, and took a tentative bite. My teeth broke through the firm skin and into the mushy pulp beneath, filling my mouth with its warm gooey texture and…
Friend, I hated it. Instead of chewing, I swallowed down the mush in one gulp along with the bile that threatened to rise.
It didn’t take the right tomato, friend. I just don’t like them.
This doesn’t mean to that there is anything wrong with tomatoes, or with you if you like them. I just happen to not enjoy them.
So, why do I tell you this torrid tomato tale? Because it reminds me of our need for closure when relationships end.
We want to know why.
Why didn’t she choose me? Why didn’t he like me? Why didn’t this work? Why did he cheat? Why did she ghost? Why did they stop speaking with me? Why don’t we hang out any more?
Guess what? It’s simple. It’s because he or she or they don’t… and that is okay.
It doesn’t mean that something is wrong with you, or that someone else won’t come along and find you marvelous and mouth watering.
You just were not the right taste, texture, and flavor for that one person. That, my friend, is all you need to know.
If someone doesn’t like tomatoes you can’t convince them otherwise, no matter how flowering the descriptors and adjectives, no matter how much you – personally – love them, they don’t.
We don’t, generally, take loads of time trying to convince someone to like a food that they find undelectable. We just accept it and don’t try to force our personal preferences upon them, but when it comes to people… well… we’re not as objective, because they’re people and feelings are not always objective.
Relationships are deeply personal. What I do want to point out, though, is that not everyone you cross paths with will be for you or you for them and, just maybe, if we try to think of it similar to a tomato we won’t try to force it, explain it, or understand it.
Sure, we’ll be bummed, sad, and disappointed – but we won’t require some deeper explanation to justify why someone doesn’t like us.
We will, instead, just accept that maybe that person just doesn’t like a tomato and then we can move on to someone who will enjoy us with delight.